


Liqueur Chocolates

by nerigby96



Category: Martin and Lewis
Genre: Chocolate, Dessert & Sweets, Drunkenness, Early Days, Fluff, Intimacy, Kissing, Love, M/M, Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerigby96/pseuds/nerigby96
Summary: “Hey, Paul.”“Hm?”“Is mint a plant or what?”
Relationships: Jerry Lewis/Dean Martin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Liqueur Chocolates

Boxes. Boxes and boxes and boxes. Filled with the most wonderful, beautiful, sweet-tasting chocolates and candies he’s ever seen. Well, except the liqueur chocolates; he took one bite and grimaced at the whisky-laced caramel. Still, boxes of mint and orange creams and almond-flavoured crunchy things. One lady pushed a cute little package into his hands, and Jerry’s sure there’s halvah in it. He’ll hide that away and have it later, unless Dean’s feeling sweet and lets him try and fail to feed him sticky chunks.

Back in the room, they unload their acquisitions on the bed. They survey the mountain of sweets, arms akimbo, like kings assessing the spoils of war.

“Your lucky day, huh, Jer?”

“You could bury me in chocolate.”

Dean laughs, and Jerry hugs him tight. “We did good today,” he says into his neck.

“We did real good, Jer.” Dean strokes his back, squeezes once, and lets him go. “Say, Jer, gimme a box of the orange creams, there.”

Jerry hands it to him, and Dean sits on the floor with his legs outstretched, leaning against the bed.

“Come sit with me, Paul.” Jerry shoves the boxes up to the headboard and clambers on the end on the bed. He flops down so his head hangs next to Dean’s, and so he can play with Dean’s hair.

“You’re all right, Jer.” Dean tries a chocolate, chews, nods. “Pretty good. Though I feel like I'm gettin' a pretty clear picture of what it'd be like to eat your pomade.”

Jerry giggles. “Me, me.” He opens his mouth, eyes closed.

“Dangerous pose, kid.” Dean laughs and pops a chocolate into his mouth.

“Mm.” He chews and swallows. “I’ll risk it, if it’s you.” He kisses Dean’s cheek, and then turns his attention to a box of mint chocolates. Within seconds, they’re all but gone.

“Hey, Paul.” He lies down again.

“Hm?”

“Is mint a plant or what?”

“You got mint there?” He laughs. “Oh, sure, just got a whiff of it.”

“Yeah, hold on.” He twists on his stomach, rummages through boxes. “There’s, uh… there’s one mint left in this box.” He holds it out. Dean reaches for it, misses.

“Aw, Jer, c’mon.”

“Maybe _I_ want it.”

“You had all of ’em!”

“Sorry, Dean.”

“We’re partners, kid. Fifty-fifty. That means I get half.”

“Half of this one, then.” Jerry sticks the chocolate between his teeth and extends his neck, grinning broadly, daring him to take it. Dean comes close and bites it clean away, lips brushing his partner’s.

They chew and swallow in silence. Jerry watches closely to make sure he didn’t overstep. Then Dean looks at him, and everything’s beautiful again.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Is mint a plant?”

“Sure, mint’s a plant,” Dean says.

“You’re so smart, Dean.” He shuffles close and tries to kiss his mouth. Dean laughs and pulls away. Then, somehow, he’s holding Jerry’s face in one gentle hand.

“What do I smell?” He comes so close Jerry can barely see him anymore.

“Huh, Paul?”

But Dean’s sniffing like a hound at Jerry’s mouth.

“You been drinkin’ whisky?”

“Huh? Oh! Your new nose is good for this, boy.” He twists away and comes back with the box of liqueur chocolates. “These ones got booze in ’em. I ate one but they’re disgusting. Liqueurs they’re called.”

“Lick-ors?”

“What?”

“What is this, lick-ors? It’s liquor. Liquor!”

“ _Lick_ ’er? I hardly _know_ ’er!”

Dean pretends to hit him.

“Anyhow, Dean, it’s lick- _orrs_. Says so on the box. It’s spelled different. See?”

“I can barely read English, think I can read this? Aw, whatever, Jer, gimme one."

“Mm, I don’t know, Paul.”

“What is this, _I don’t know, Paul_? Nothin’ to know. Gimme a chocolate.” He makes a grab for the box, but Jerry’s too quick.

“Well, like you say, we’re partners, right, Paul?”

“Right.”

“Then I get half of these.”

“You don’t even want ’em!”

“I’m entitled!”

“Aw, c’mon, Jer, don’t play semantics with me now.”

“I like the chocolate part! Chocolate’s mine, booze is yours.”

“Sure, Jer, now c’mon.”

Jerry nibbles daintily at the chocolate shell, then tips the hole against his partner’s mouth. Dean giggles as the liquor trickles over his tongue. He smacks his lips and moans.

“Kid, I think I’m in love.”

“Well, I like you, too, Dean, but—”

“Hurry up, kid, make with the liquor.”

Jerry sighs theatrically. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Not all, but I’m not drunk enough yet.”

Jerry laughs. He pops the empty shell into his mouth and chews enthusiastically. There’s a trace of whisky, but the chocolate easily overpowers it. He grabs another and takes a bite. “Oops!” The filling dribbles from the hole and down his wrist.

“Aw, no, don’t waste it!” Dean takes hold of Jerry’s forearm. He cranes his neck and runs his tongue up and over Jerry’s wrist, catching the liquor before it can drip to the carpet. He licks over the pad of the thumb and finishes by curling his tongue around the half-eaten dome and rolling it into his mouth. Dean sucks the last of the chocolate from Jerry’s thumb and forefinger and, finally, lets him go.

Dean hums appreciatively. Then he looks at Jerry, who suddenly feels like he won’t ever be able to breathe again.

“All right, Jer?” There’s real concern there, and Jerry’s heart thrums. He nods and clears his throat, only able to whisper:

“There’s chocolate on your mouth.”

Softly, Dean says, “Get it, then.”

Jerry bites his lip. He nods once. Then he slides forward a little and turns his head. His tongue flicks against the corner of Dean’s mouth. He pauses. Then he moves along his lips, sucking, nibbling gently, until he reaches the other corner, where his tongue flicks once more. Then he pulls back, flushing up to the tips of his ears and holding his breath in lungs that burn.

Dean’s freshly-cleaned mouth curls into a sleepy grin. “You don't got no handkerchief?”

“O-oh. I didn’t mean to—”

But Dean’s grinning. He pats Jerry’s cheek and asks, “All clean now?”

Jerry nods, visibly relieved. He hands the box to Dean and watches him work his methodical way through the chocolates, musing: “What’s this, now? Rum? Hm-hm, yes, _sir_ , definitely rum. Alrighty, so what’s _this_? Hm… Tough. I’m thinkin’ cognac. Oh, but of course, this one’s simple! Another whisky. Oh, you ol’ hound dog, you!” Dean’s steadily getting merry on the chocolates, and Jerry feels as if he’s getting a second-hand helping just being nearby. He giggles and chuckles and outright guffaws, hiding his face in the bedspread. Dean gets bigger and sillier and funnier, and after the last one throws the box in the air like a college graduate.

“You know, Jer.” He’s slurring a little, and God, if it isn’t the cutest thing Jerry’s ever heard. “Maybe you’re onto somethin’ here. All these sweets ’n’ things.” He retrieves the empty box and holds it up for Jerry to see.

“I’m proud of you, bubbe.” He kisses Dean’s cheek and tugs gently on his lapel. “Come here.”

Dean sighs, but he climbs on to the bed to lie beside his partner.

“See all the stuff we got? All the chocolates and sweets and everything?” They haven’t even started on the other parcels yet, but they’ll get there.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“Imagine that, but it’s all money.”

Dean chuckles.

“I mean it, Paul. That’s how much we’re gonna have one day. More, even.” He slips his hand inside Dean’s jacket. “You’n me, Paul.”

“You’n me.” Dean smiles. He reaches for the hand against his shirt, and Jerry worries for a second, but it’s only so he can hold it, only so he can press a slightly sticky kiss to the back of it. “You’n me, kid.”

Dean’s eyes drift closed. He looks so lovely, so peaceful. Jerry’s heart swells, and he whispers. “Hey, Paul?”

“Hm.” He doesn’t open his eyes, but his fingers flutter against Jerry’s, just to let him know he’s listening.

“I wanna tell you something.”

Dean's eyelids flicker. His gaze drifts, focuses. He studies Jerry’s face and smiles gently. “Later, kid. Okay? When I’m not so drunk.” He touches Jerry’s cheek. “Later, when I’ll remember.”

Jerry nods. It doesn't matter if he doesn't say it now. He thinks Dean knows, anyhow. But just to be sure, he leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to remember that,” Jerry whispers, "if you don’t wanna.”

"Hm." Dean tweaks his nose. "We'll see."


End file.
